


Survivor

by misaffection



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-29
Updated: 2008-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection





	Survivor

The bar is heaving. The air is heavy with the heat of bodies pressed too close, smells of sweat and of smoke, and when he breathes it in it lies in his chest like lead. Every breath increases the weight he's feeling, darkens his already sober mood. He flinches back when a dancing couple bump into his table. He doesn't like crowds, an odd dislike for a man in his position. In the position he had. He's lost that along with everything else.

He downs the alcohol he's been nursing. It's sweet and spicy and all too like his father's home-brew to offer any comfort. Even after all this time he can remember his mother's frightened face when his father dragged his wayward sons home, barely able to stand. And the thrashing he got the next day that he'd been thankful to receive because it meant he was alive and not dead.

These days being alive doesn't seem to be that great a thing to be thankful for. Which is why he's seen fit to sit in a stinking bar and drink until he can no longer feel the pain. He doesn't drink often, too aware of its effects to allow the lapse of self-control. Today he doesn't frelling care any more. Only he does, just about the wrong things. Or the right things but they don't want him to care. Or something.

He isn't entirely sure what it is; whether it's either the drink or the smoke, some of which comes from illegal substances, but he is, whichever way, decidedly fuzzy. It's not as pleasant as he'd hoped it would be. It's more like the moment of numbness that occurs after an injury, just before the pain hits.

The bartender is doing the rounds of the tables. A credit sees his glass refilled. He ignored the slightly incredulous look, the one that wonders what someone like him is doing in a place like this. He thinks that should be obvious, seeing as this is... he frowns and tries to recall how much he'd drunk. He can't remember.

It's at that point he sees her. She stands at the bar, eyeing the crowd. Most are couples and don't hold any interest for her. Then she looks directly at him. She is pale, far too thin but her dark hair falls to her shoulders. Even as she moves, he knows this is a bad idea. A really bad idea.

But he's had enough of being alone, of wanting something he can't have. He's angry and bitter and hurting. And she is willing, at least once he's paid for her drink and her willingness.

Two arns later and he knows just how bad an idea it was. Meaningless and empty, it's left him as numb as the alcohol did. As lost and alone as he ever was. He stands at the window and looks down.

He remembers Xhalax falling. He doesn't know if she was dead from his pistol blast or if she only died when she hit the floor. He wonders if it hurt.

The window is open. The night is cold and the thin curtains stream inwards on the stiff breeze. He moves to the edge and stands there. All it would take is one step and all the pain and the hurt would be over. Yet he does not move. Because deeper than the pain is something else - stubbornness. And a fighter's instinct. He has survived worse things, he can survive this. He has nothing to live for. Nothing but life itself. He isn't sure that's enough, but it will do for now and he steps back and turns back into the room.

His momentary distraction is long gone, but he doesn't care. She got what she wanted and so did he. A simple transaction. It was easier that way because it doesn't hurt. Although he feels like an idiot and that maybe he's betrayed himself in some way. That's fine; he's done it to just about everyone else.

He smiles grimly and leaves the room.

Back aboard Talyn he says nothing. He doesn't know if anyone knows what he did. He knows he doesn't care, not even when Aeryn returns. She looks at him. Just looks and says nothing either. Everything has changed and yet things are still the same. He still loves her, wants her.

He knows she is so far beyond his reach, the distance is insurmountable.

But he will survive.

They both will.

Somehow.


End file.
